Page 137 of The Eyes of Tamburah
“We’re leaving,” she said, heading for the doorway near the altar.
The Arch Deacon hauled her to her feet behind the altar. Shyla summoned the last of her strength and broke free.
Facing her, he brandished a knife. “The Blessed One doesn’t care what condition you arrive in.”
“I’ll make sure to pass along your regrets,” Shyla said, sliding her feet into a fighting stance.
“You can barely stand.” He lunged.
She twisted away. The blade ripped into the fabric of her robe. Scorching hells, she’d forgotten about the cumbersome garment. He shuffled close and punched. Moving too slow, she stumbled as his knuckles connected with her shoulder. Fire raced down her arm. In a blink, he was past her guard. Without thought, she grabbed his wrist, stopping the blade from sinking into her stomach. They struggled and there was nothing she could do but hang onto his knife hand, keeping the weapon from finding flesh while his fist pounded her ribs.
Her muscles were fatigued and there wasn’t much space behind the altar. When her heel bumped the wall, they both knew she was done. He slammed her into the hard stone. Pain exploded in her head.
In the moment it took for her vision to clear, he’d spun her around and pinned her to his chest. Cold metal pricked her neck, warning her to be still as he backed them out the door the priestess used. She scanned the fighters. Sometime during her skirmish, the Water Prince’s guards had joined in. He must have learned about the exchange. The guards’ swords countered the Arch Deacons’ knives.
But no acolytes fought.
And Rendor was…gone!
They’d all left her.
CHAPTER
22
A blast of shock rolled through her. Then logic caught up with her emotions. Her plan had failed and put her people in danger. Hopefully the Invisible Swords, acolytes, Jayden, and Rendor had all escaped to safety. She’d be heartsick with grief if one of them died. At least this way, there would only be one casualty.
Shyla and the Arch Deacon reached a hallway. He turned, pushing her forward instead of dragging her back. Confession rooms flanked them—her guess had been right. Small comfort. There had to be another way out. Sure enough, a tunnel branched off to the right. Soon they left the chapel’s back area and entered a semi-dark tunnel somewhere on level fifty-one. Druk lanterns were few and far between in this section of Zirdai.
This was it. Last chance to escape. Shyla dredged up every little bit of energy in her body. Focusing it on one command, she projected.
Stop.
The man kept up his fast pace and she wilted. He stopped in a T-intersection long enough to secure her wrists behind her back. She didn’t have any strength left to fight him. But breathing was easier without the blade pressed on her throat. However he kept it in his right hand while he grasped the back of her neck and propelled her deeper. Numb with disbelief, she stared at nothing. She didn’t have the energy to pay attention to the twists and turns, ups and downs.
They reached another intersection and turned toward a brighter area. Shyla guessed they’d descended two or three levels. No one walked in the wide corridor as most everyone in Zirdai was asleep by this time. Not that they’d help her. No, she’d was on her own.
A roar suddenly broke the quiet. “Shyla, get down!”
Without thought, she dropped to the ground. A thud sounded. The Arch Deacon grunted and toppled on top of her. His weight pressed on her, making it difficult to breathe. Then the man flew—no, he was tossed. And there stood—
“Rendor,” she whispered.
He knelt next to her. “Are you injured?”
“Nothing serious. How did you find—”
“I’ll explain later. Can you walk?”
Ah, good question. “Help me up.”
Rendor plucked her from the ground and set her on her feet with ease. He untied her hands. She drew in a few breaths.
“We need to go. It’s still not safe,” he said.
His comment gave her a boost of energy. She glanced at the prone form of the Arch Deacon. Shyla leaned closer, ensuring he was still alive. His chest rose and fell. Good. Then she spotted a platinum torque peeking from his collar. Identical to the priestess’s. Something about it… Instinctively she yanked it off and stuffed it into her pack, which, by some miracle, remained looped around her under the robe.
Rendor took her hand and led her…she’d no idea. All that mattered was they were together. He snagged a druk and they ascended a couple…dozen levels, keeping to the edges of Zirdai and away from the populated areas. The trip turned into a test of her willpower.
